Tag: New York Times

Is the trouble over? Is all my wishin’ and hopin’ and thinkin’ and prayin’—to say nothing of my incessant bellowing at customer service representatives—finally paying off? Maybe. Monday’s and Tuesday’s papers arrived in a timely fashion, around six-thirty am. Wednesday’s papers appeared at a more annoying seven-fifteen or so. Then Thursday’s was good, and miracle…

To experience this kind of luxury is to feel also the needling of guilt. Our cabin is made immaculate by our personal gremlin, the steward Erik, and someone hangs in a little linen bag several pages of articles from the New York Times (including the crossword puzzle) just before lunch. Organized meals—breakfast, lunch, tea, supper,…

There was an interesting piece in The New York Times this morning. Under the headline “An Artwork Turns to Mush, All According to Plan,” William Grimes described sculptor James Grashow’s desire to be the “architect” of his own work’s demise. In December 2006, Grashow’s recently deceased dealer Allan Stone received a couple of elements from…

The New York Times sponsored a contest: “Defending your Dinner: An Open Contest for Hungry Ethicists.” I’m a sucker for contests, raffles and such, even though I never win. This effort met with predictable results. Because I was curious about when the “winners” might have their essays printed, I poked around on the Internet. Much…

This year we again bought a lamb at the Harford County Fair 4-H auction. Our freezer has been lambless for some months but the decision to bid was very last-minute. A call about a week after the event let us know the amount owed, that our lamb had been delivered to Bowman’s and that we…

My Dear One decided to bake. I noticed because there were a couple of plastic buckets left over from some construction job in the oven—a sure sign of yeast at work. For whatever reason—cabin fever, a short supply of good rye bread in the freezer, the sudden urge to make up for previous failures–he quietly…

They forced out my Dark Side. Again. I did not get up this rainy September morning on the wrong side of the bed. I did not glance in the bathroom mirror and wave hello to Scary Ellen. Not at all. I rose quietly so as not to disturb the rest of my Dear One. I…